Rescue Me, Kiss Away The Pain
by sexyscholar
Summary: A pair of sequential drabbles that I did for the latest Ficadron dra-w-bble challenge. Warning: Character death, not Ron or Draco.


Rescue Me

Despite the sharp pain from the blow to his stomach, Draco crawls to his feet and runs outside. He knows it's too late but he doesn't stop...until he hears the scream -- a shrill cry of hopelessness and despair. It carries a finality that weighs heavily on his heart.

He finds Astoria lying in his mother's beloved garden, her ankle twisted in a direction not possible in mortal motion. There is mud staining her lavender dress and darkening her blonde hair. Draco moves closer, the acrid scent of blood hot in his nasal cavity, and his stomach lurches nastily.

A breeze licks softly against his hair and he falls to his knees in the spongy earth. There is blood drying on her delicate hand, and on the diamond wedding ring still around her finger. Her blue eyes are wet - fixed on nothing. He leans forward and brushes his bruised knuckles over her cheek -- her skin is still warm and blood that has welled on her cheek spills down in a thin line over her mouth.

The man presses his fingertips to his wife's eyes and closes the lids gently, as if he was afraid of hurting her. The strap of her thin dress had slipped down and he moves it back onto her bruised skin.

~*~*~

When the authorities arrive, there is much ado: the scribbling of measurements and angles and theories. No one calls her by name -- she is simply _the body_, and Draco is screaming inside of his head.

Two Aurors cover her and cast a Levitation charm on her body. There is a coagulated mess of blood on the grass, and it makes a sickly, squelching sound as she is lifted away. More Aurors circle around him, trying to pluck information from him like vultures from a carcass. Draco wants to run, but a large, freckled hand suddenly on his shoulder stops him.

"I'll take it from here," a voice says, authoritative and solemn.

Draco tries to shrug the hand away, but it won't budge. He tilts his head to find Ron Weasley looking down at him. The sympathy is plain in his eyes, and it's almost too much.

"We'll get them," he assures.

Draco opens his mouth to speak, but words will not come. Instead, his body retches, choking on the sobs that have wanted to break free for what feels like hours. He falls against Ron's chest, giving in to bitter tears that soak into his robes.

It's the first time Draco's ever wept in the open, and it occurs to him that he should be mortified that Weasley is the one to see him, to comfort him. He inhales the scent of Ron's clothes, and it reminds him of intimacies that aren't appropriate now, but his body responds all the same.

Draco looks up at him, his vision blurry with pressure and tears. "Get me out of here," he pleads.

* * *

Kiss Away the Pain

Ron opens the door to his small flat and stands aside as Draco steps in. The living room is cold, dark, and Draco shivers -- not because of the temperature, but because he is immediately reminded of the loneliness he is trying so desperately to hold at bay.

Draco doesn't turn around -- he doesn't have to. He can feel Ron's eyes on him, can almost _hear_ his need to "fix" him. Ron is still hopelessly _Gryffindor_.

The door closes behind Draco with a click and then Ron is in front of him, against him, searching his face for an indication that the blond has changed his mind. When he finds none, he leans forward and presses his lips to Draco's, but nothing more.

Draco ignores the tears that spill down his cheek and gives himself wholly to the kiss. His hands smooth over the front of Ron's cloak and grip it tight as he slips his tongue past teeth and into his warm mouth. Ron moans quietly, and Draco's stomach clenches with want.

He breaks the kiss, breathless. His expression is soft, but not a smile. His hands move down the rough wool cloak and into Ron's, and he begins to step backward in the direction of the bedroom.

It's been ages since he's been here, but memories are strong tonight, and Draco knows the way.

~*~*~

Like the first time, everything begins slowly, awkwardly. Their jutting pelvic bones knock against each other as they try to set the right rhythm, and then...

...there is the feeling of being wrenched apart and pieced together as Ron enters his body.

Draco cries out, soft and mewling. It is the first sound he makes.

He holds Ron close, arcing his hips into each thrust that takes him away from the pain and closer to the memory of the first time they were together. He opens his eyes to find Ron watching him again: studying every parting of lips, each helpless sigh, and Draco knows that he'll never take him farther than he wants to go, and though he'll never say it aloud, he is thankful for it.

Their bodies take over and move faster, recreating the fiery dance that Draco had relished so eagerly the first time. Their tongues flick inside each other's mouths, learning each other again, and like the first time, Draco bites Ron's lip, eager to taste him.

Ron keens and pushes harder, touching that secret part within Draco, and the blond wails into the dark. His nails dig into the damp skin of Ron's back, scratching as his body is racked with one hard shudder, and then he is spilling out between their bellies.

The redhead quickly tumbles afterward, bucking hard into Draco's body, and then stills. He tilts his head down to kiss him, and Draco can taste salt on his tongue.

He looks up and notices tears on Ron's freckled cheeks.

It's the first time Draco has ever seen him cry.


End file.
